


Pictures of You

by fandommatchmaker19



Category: For the People (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 18:40:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20680082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandommatchmaker19/pseuds/fandommatchmaker19
Summary: What if Roger didn't quit his job at the end of 2x10? What would happen to his and Jill's relationship?In any universe, no matter what, they end up together. Somehow, they always find their way to each other.





	Pictures of You

**Author's Note:**

> This one is a long one! I thought to break it up, but it's better this way! Hope you enjoy!  
xx

His face was unreadable when he entered her office, and Jill immediately looked up in shock.

“What are you doing here?” she blurts, her voice barely above a whisper as she lifts her gaze to look at him. Roger looks down, avoiding her gaze as he steps into the office.

“I came to see you,” he answers simply, his voice devoid of emotion, and Jill’s heartbeat quickens.

[He looks tired, and she knows he’d been over-working through the Spiller case, but this seems like a different kind of exhaustion].

“Personal or professional?” she asks him, bracing herself for what he’s about to say. [They’d ended things at the bar, but Jill can’t help but wonder about the reason he was in her office now. Part of Jill hoped, foolishly so, that he’d somehow figured out a miraculous way for them to stay together].

“Personal,” he says sadly, his eyes drifting down, refusing to meet her gaze. Jill’s breath hitches in her throat as her eyes drift to his face, but Roger refuses to meet her gaze.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her stomach in knots with worry. Slowly, agonizingly so, Roger moves towards the couch she’d been sitting on, and Jill shifts slightly, putting distance between them. [She wants to be near him, she wants to feel his body beside hers, reach for his hand, but she’s certain that if this is bad news she won’t be able to touch him, that his touch would kill her]. Roger sits down, his head bowed, his hands in his lap. Jill itches to take his hands in hers, lace their fingers together and bask in the feel of his calloused fingers on her soft skin. “Roger?” she prods, partly because she doesn’t think he’ll say anything if she doesn’t and partly to brace herself for the answer.

Finally, after what seems like forever, Roger looks up and meets her gaze, and Jill’s shaken by the pure emotional torture visible in his eyes.

“They offered me Acting U.S. Attorney,” he says baldly, never one to beat around the bush and Jill inhales sharply. It’s quiet between them, so quiet you could hear a pin drop, and Jill can feel her heart hammer rapidly in her chest. Roger looks away and Jill winces, her mind racing as her own gaze drifts to the floor. 

“Wh- what are you talking about?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper, tears prickling at her eyes. She wills herself not to cry, not in front of him, and looks up though Roger doesn’t yet meet her gaze.

“Washington didn’t like the Spiller case,” he licks his lips, his head still bowed, avoiding her gaze. “They want Delap out,” he finishes his explanation and Jill lets out a soft sigh, her hand inching closer to his, itching to feel his skin on hers.

“And what did you say?” she manages to say, though she’s pretty sure she already knows the answer. Still she wants to hear it from him, so she waits, filled with apprehension as Roger takes a deep breath.

“I-” he cuts himself off, his voice thick with emotion and finally looks up at her, at a loss for words. “You know what I said, Jill,” he finally says and Jill nods, both wanting to hear him say the words and not wanting that. “I said yes,” he says finally, and Jill’s stomach drops. “I- I said I was honored… this… this is the job I’ve always wanted I- I couldn’t say no,” he scrambles for his words as he tries to look anywhere but into her tear-filled green eyes. “I’m sorry,” he mutters weakly. “I’m sorry, Jill,” he repeats, his head bowed. Silence settles between them as Jill tries to find the right words to say when all she wants to do is tell him she loves him and kiss him senseless. She wants to tell him she wants him.

“No, y- you shouldn’t be… you shouldn’t be sorry. Don’t be sorry. I- I’m happy for you, this is what you’ve always wanted and you… you deserve this,” she tells him instead, pushing down her heartbreak, blinking away the tears that threaten to spill from her eyes. “We just cannot be,” she sighs in defeat. “Not now, not ever.”

“I’m so sorry, Jill,” Roger says, and she can see the heartbreak and pain clear in his icy blue eyes.

“It’s okay,” she says softly as Roger tears his gaze away, bowing his head. [It’s as if even eye contact is difficult, and Jill’s heart aches with the realization]. The air is pulsing with electricity, and Jill itches to touch him, craves his touch in an all-consuming sort of way, but knows how hard it’ll be to let go if she gives in. Roger seems to sense this, so he makes no effort, content with just being near her instead.

“Jill,” he whispers lowly, and Jill melts at how her name sounds as it rolls off his tongue, her body reacting immediately, a swarm of butterflies in her stomach as she wonders what giving in would mean. “Jill,” he repeats desperately.

Finally, she gives in and reaches across the small space between them to take his hand, lacing her fingers with his. At first, Roger freezes, but then he responds to the gesture, snapping his gaze to meet hers and squeezes her hand in comfort. Seconds pass, and they remain like that, not touching except for their interlaced fingers before reluctantly, Jill lets go of his hand.

“You should go,” she says softly, but Roger doesn’t move. “You have to go,” she repeats, and Roger finally reacts, getting up almost on autopilot. She does as well, her body shaking.

“Yes, you are right,” he agrees. He leans down, and Jill almost thinks he’ll kiss her and she will lose it, but instead he presses his lips to her forehead, his lips soft on her forehead and her heart beats rapidly in her chest, her breath hitching, before quickly pulling away. As he walks away, he stops to glance over at her, his eyes filled with pain and unshed tears before, finally, he is out the door as Jill watches him leave.

* * *

Jill doesn’t see Roger for a few days after the break up. A week, to be exact. She throws herself into work, taking on several cases while trying to pretend that the pain she’d felt the night she and Roger had ended their relationship had lessened. It hadn’t, and she misses him with a growing intensity. [Her apartment feels a different kind of empty than it did when she’d just moved in, watching SportsCenter is no longer her favorite pastime without Roger’s running acerbic commentary and she has a newfound distaste for Western omelets. And, the gaping hole in her heart still hurts so much it feels like a knife is cutting through her chest].

She’d seen his swearing in ceremony, Maggie and Lizzie standing beside him, then gone to a bar to drink away her sorrows and she’d felt that pain with a new, aching intensity. She does her best to avoid the U.S. Attorney’s Office, sending Sandra or one of the other FPDs and calling Kate to her office for any meetings. [Kate Littlejohn had taken over Roger’s job, and Jill was grateful to the other woman for not bringing Roger up and not questioning Jill’s vehement and definitely unreasonable requests to meet at the FPD office]. Still, despite her avoidance attempts, all good things come to an end.

Kate had asked her, rather insistently, to meet at the U.S. Attorney’s Office, so Jill finds herself riding the twenty floors to her counterpart’s office while praying she would not bump into the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District. Unfortunately, her prayers were not answered because as soon as she got off, she found herself walking straight into Roger’s chest.

“Sorry!” she yells quickly and she stumbles back before a hand on her arm steadies her, causing a shiver to run down her spine. Slowly, she steps backwards, lifting her eyes up only to find herself gazing into Roger’s icy blue eyes. [She’d known it was Roger immediately, having smelt his cologne, but seeing his face somehow takes her breath away and she’s left there staring at him]. Roger’s expression is unreadable as he meets her gaze, though Jill can feel the warmth in his gaze, warmth reserved just for her and it only serves to make her heart ache more.

“Hi,” she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she forces herself to sound normal.

“Hi,” he greets back neutrally and Jill can see that Roger had reverted to his coping mechanism of building up a wall and not letting anyone in, terrifying every AUSA that steps through the door of this office, pretending to be cold and ruthless when inside he’s clearly hurting. [There’s a part of Jill that hates the fact that Roger’s hurting, a part of her that wonders if they should’ve tried to continue their relationship secretly, consequences be damned. But, the other part of her, the rational part knows that it wouldn’t have ended well, that their jobs would have forced them apart and they’d have to end things eventually and be more heartbroken in the end]. “How are you?” he asks her pleasantly and for a second Jill wants to tell him that she’s in pain, that she misses him and is lonely, but instead she just smiles politely.

“I’m fine. Busy,” she replies stiffly. “How are you?”

“That’s good. I am busy, too,” he tells her nodding. There’s a pregnant pause and Jill wonders if this is it, if this the only kind of normal half-conversation they can have, but then Roger breaks the silence. “You have clothes,” he blurts, and Jill’s a little taken aback.

“Clothes?”

“Yes. You left some clothes at my apartment. I’m guessing you might need them,” he shrugs and she nods in understanding. “You should come pick them up. You still have the key, right?”

“Yeah,” she nods faintly.

“Leave the key on the kitchen counter,” he tells her.

“Yeah, okay,” she says, her gaze still locked with his. “Right, okay.”

“Great. Um, if I forgot anything at your apartment, you’ll let me know?”

“Yes,” she agrees.

“I guess I’ll see you,” he says, stepping back slightly. Only then does Jill realize how close they’d been standing and it hurts.

“Yes, see you,” she agrees, trying to plaster on a fake smile. “I, uh, I have a meeting-”

“I need to go meet with-”

They break off, nodding, and then Roger moves in the direction of the elevators and Jill starts moving towards Kate’s office.

“Goodbye, Jill,” Roger says softly.

“Bye,” she tells him.

* * *

It’s a few days before Jill finally brings herself to go pick up her clothes. The first thing she notices is that Roger isn’t at his apartment and her heart sinks. [Jill’s pretty sure it’s on purpose, but she doesn’t dwell on it]. She enters the apartment and crosses through the living room and kitchen area to the bedroom. Roger’s bedroom. She’d brought a duffel bag with her and she piles the few clothes she’d left in it before taking a look around to check if she’d forgotten anything.

The sheets hadn’t been changed since she’d last been there, and it doesn’t take a genius to feel Roger’s very clear absence from the apartment. Jill wonders where he spends most of his time, wonders if he had simply thrown himself into work or if there was something else that kept him from sleeping at his place. [A traitorous part of her wonders if he’d moved on, but Jill ignores it]. The book she’d borrowed from him was still on her nightstand, where Jill would also put her hand cream and chap stick on the nights she stayed over. She glances over to find that Roger was currently reading one of her favorite books and she smiles fondly. He’d given it to her after the Steve Caldwell case and she’d read it over a weekend before telling him he absolutely _had _to read it. He’d been skeptical at first – he’d picked up the book from Denver, from the staff recommendation shelf at that bookstore he likes – but eventually he’d given in. She’d forgotten about it and she runs her fingertips over the cover, smiling at the thought of him still reading it, but decides to leave it there.

With one last glance around the living room, she turns around and moves onto the living room. The living room, too, is mostly empty of her things except for a few casefiles and books. Neither of them was really one for photos, especially when they were keeping their relationship on the down low. The only photographic proof of their relationship at Roger’s apartment was a photo stuck to the fridge. It was a photo of her at Yankee Stadium, her blonde hair windswept and fanning her face, she was mid-laugh, the sun shining in her face. She runs her fingers over the photograph, her lips curling into a smile as she remembers the day the photograph had been taken. [_It had been a beautiful day, the Yankees were playing the Red Sox, and she remembers the exhilaration they’d both felt when the Yankees had scored. She’d grabbed his hand and they’d stood up together, cheering loudly until they couldn’t breathe anymore. Roger had snapped the photo when they’d sat down and she’d turned to him after he’d made some joke_]. Jill can feel her heart constricts at the sight of the photo, but she lets it go and brushes it off, takes another sweeping look at the apartment before dropping the keys on the counter and walking out the door, though it feels like she’d left her heart in there.

She picks up takeout and goes home, settles in front of the Sports Center with a glass of wine and tries not to think about Roger Gunn and the photo. Or rather, the person in the photo who was nothing like her. _Maybe once that was you, _a voice nagged, but Jill shook it off.

And yet, as she is putting away her dinner, she notices something that makes her heart ache and her eyes prickle with tears at the sight of the only photographic evidence of their relationship she’d kept at her apartment.

_“I can’t believe you kept this!” Roger remarks, pointing to the fridge and it doesn’t take her long to realize what ‘this’ is. [It was a photo-booth-type thing they’d done a while ago, made up for four square-shaped photos. The first picture was embarrassingly cute, Roger’s arms wrapped around her, their smiling faces pressed against each other. The second one was the generic and silly one, their tongues sticking out. The third was her favorite, Roger’s face was practically concealed by her hair, and he’d turned to whisper something funny and ridiculous and entirely Roger-like in her ear, so she was mid-laughter, turned slightly towards him. The fourth one was strangely intimate and sweet; she’d turned to press a kiss to his cheek, but he’d turned so she ended up kissing the corner of his mouth, and Roger being Roger had pulled her closer and deepened the kiss, so the camera had captured a proper smooch]. She smiles at him. _

_“Of course, I kept it,” she tells him with a laugh. “I think it’s nice,” she adds with a smile before gently pulling it out from underneath the magnet that had been pinning it to the fridge. “Besides, it’s not like we have thousands of photos,” she remarks as an afterthought. _

_“It’s embarrassing and ridiculous is what it is,” Roger retorts, faux-grumpily. _

_“Oh, c’mon, don’t be such a grouch!” she tells him, shoving him slightly, and he chuckles, amused. “Admit it, you love these photos,” she says, leaning into him before tilting her head up to press a kiss to his cheek, but he moves and captures her lips with his own, his hands wrapping around her waist, pulling her in for a longer kiss that she returns eagerly, her hands wrapping around his neck, photograph still in her hand._

As Jill rubs her thumb over the photos, she feels a tear fall down her cheek and she wipes it away, shaking herself out of the reverie. She takes her laptop with her to bed, letting herself focus on her next case instead, hoping to distract herself.

* * *

He can’t bring himself to leave her office, yet somehow he still does, and leaves the building. Eventually, he finds himself at the bar near Chambers Street, downing glass after glass, trying to forget what he’d done. [Still, Jill’s face would forever be imprinted in his mind].

And, the next day, he throws himself into work, letting Littlejohn take point on criminal cases and overseeing the eager AUSAs, letting the demands of his new job distract him from the heartache he feels every time Sandra Bell or any of the other FPDs arrives at the office for a meeting.

Maggie and Lizzie come to stay for his swearing in and he’s grateful to his daughters for the welcome distraction, taking them to Yankee games and bookstores around town while praying he doesn’t run into Jill. Unfortunately for him, Maggie figures out that Jill’s absence has something to do with his mood and corners him one evening after Lizzie had gone to bed. He’d switched on SportsCenter and Maggie had made them both tea before curling herself next to him like she used to when she was little.

“Dad?”

“Yeah?” he mutters tiredly.

“What happened with Jill?” she asks gently, scooting closer to him.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” he tells her, shaking his head.

“Oh, c’mon, dad!” Maggie exclaims quietly. “You don’t talk about her, I know you don’t talk _to_her and you didn’t invite her to the Yankee game yesterday. What’s going on?” his older daughter asks gently and Roger can’t bring himself to lie to her.

“We, uh, we broke up. My fault,” he sighs bitterly and feels Maggie gently rub his shoulder.

“What do you mean?”

“I couldn’t date Jill and have this job and I chose the job. Not that Jill gave me much of a choice, but still…” he trails off. “Sorry, sweetheart, I know you really liked her,” he says regretfully, wrapping an arm around Maggie’s shoulders.

“Oh… I’m so sorry, daddy. It isn’t about me though, it’s about you. You were so much happier with her,” Maggie replies gently.

“I know. I’m still happy, I’m happy I have you and Lizzie here with me. Thanks for coming,” he smiles at her.

“Of course,” she mutters softly.

They finish watching the game and Maggie joins her sister while Roger goes to his bedroom, staring at the empty side of the bed next to him.

* * *

[It’s not lost on him that Jill is avoiding coming to the U.S. Attorney’s Office, especially when he notices that Kate Littlejohn had started leaving the office on a daily basis when usually she would stay in her office if she wasn’t in court].

“Littlejohn,” he greets her, though he’d started using her name now that she was no longer just an AUSA. They get on the elevator even though Roger tries to avoid using it, but this time he’s in a hurry to get to the courthouse, so he

“Roger,” she barely glances at him, her hand resting on the strap of her leather bag while she tucks her hair behind her ear with the other.

“You have a hearing?” he asks her curiously, not that he’s checking up on her, or at least he wouldn’t admit to it.

“Just a meeting,” Kate says simply.

“Huh,” he mutters.

“Yes. Do you need anything? Or, are you just checking up on me?” She turns briefly to him, fixing him with her blue eyes, one eyebrow raised in clear skepticism.

“Just checking in, Littlejohn. No need to get so defensive,” he smirks in her direction.

“I see. Well, you’ve checked in. I’m good, doing my job,” she nods at him. [15 floors left]. “Meeting-” she hesitates, as if unsure whether to say anything or not.

“Jill?” he guesses, not that it’s very difficult to do so.

“I’m sorry, I… I don’t think I was supposed to say that,” she shakes her head, her eyes drifting up to the floor display. [10 floors to go].

“It’s fine,” he sighs, curling his shaking hands into fists, taking another deep breath and exhaling. “We were together, now we’re not. We cannot be.”

“We don’t have to talk about that. That is personal. This is not,” Kate says, a bit of sympathy clear in her voice. [Sympathetic is not something Roger would use to describe Kate Littlejohn, but still he appreciated it].

“Kate…” he says softly, at a loss for words. [He could not explain it, even to Littlejohn, what he felt for Jill Carlan, what had happened. Why he felt so guilty].

“It’s okay, I understand,” she cuts him off, a small smile on her face.

With a slight jolt, the elevator stops and the doors open and Roger feels like he can finally breathe again. Kate steps off first, then he does and they exchange a tiny nod as they exit the building separately. [He resolves to buy Kate a Lego set then].

* * *

Not seeing Jill on a daily basis is different, it almost feels _wrong _somehow. Yet, somehow, Roger gets used to it, to not seeing her until he’s at his apartment, fixing himself dinner for the first time in weeks. [He’d been eating takeout or had dinner at fancy restaurants for the past week or so since he’d become U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York, so he hadn’t had time to do it]. But, stuck to his fridge is a portrait-sized photograph that makes him stop his movements. It’s the one photo he had of Jill, one he’d snapped of her at Yankee Stadium and as he takes a closer look, he’s struck by how beautiful and happy she looked. The wind was blowing her hair in her face, the sun was shining brightly, and she was mid-laughter, her bright green eyes twinkling and Roger hadn’t seen anything more beautiful so he’d pulled out his phone and snapped the picture. [_The Yankees had just scored and were about to beat the Red Sox and even the usually-suffocating crowd at the stadium couldn’t take away his joy and pure excitement as she’d grabbed his hand, pulling him up with her. He loved that about her, the pure joy she had for baseball, the almost childlike way she’d cheer every time the Yankees would score_]. For a minute, he lets himself get lost in the memory, but the smell of the sizzling meat makes him stop and pull himself out of his reverie. Instead, he focuses on cooking, an activity he used to enjoy, especially if it involved Jill and a glass of wine, letting her taste his cooking and exchanging lingering kisses with her in between sips of wine.

He enjoys a beer with his meal, half-working on his laptop, catching up on emails, SportsCenter running in the background, though it’s no longer enjoyable without Jill, so he turns it off after a while. He watches Rocky before going to bed, grabbing his book off his nightstand. It’s _An American Marriage_, the book he’d given Jill after she had lost the Steve Caldwell case. [He’d gone to Denver for a quick work trip and he’d gone to The Tattered Cover looking for something to read on the way back. He’d noticed the book among Topher’s Staff Recommendations and he’d decided to buy it for Jill, certain she’d appreciate the book. She’d read it over a weekend, and afterwards had insisted he read it as well]. He finishes the book and is struck by its ending, reminded that justice isn’t always served. Briefly, he wonders if Jill had ever gone through something like that, if she’d ever had to defend someone like that.

A week after that night in Jill’s office, he finally sees her and his breath is quite literally knocked out of him. He’s leaving his office for a meeting when it happens and Roger has just enough time to brace himself for it. Or rather, for Jill to walk straight into his chest as she gets off the elevator. Her smell hits him, invading his senses immediately, lavender and vanilla and something woodsy that he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Sorry!” she yells quickly, stumbling backwards. Instinctively, he reaches for her, gripping her arm gently, his pulse quickening at the feel of her skin beneath his through the thin material of her blazer. Slowly, she steps backwards, lifting her eyes up to meet his, and he lets himself meet her gaze, briefly letting his guard down.

“Hi,” she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper, sounding slightly forced.

“Hi,” he greets back neutrally, wondering briefly if they’d ever be able to go back to how things used to be, before. _Who am I kidding, even then I was halfway in love with her, we can’t go back, _he realizes. “How are you?” he asks her instead, forcing himself to sound pleasant. He sees his answer immediately just from the look on her face, the pain, loneliness and longing clear in her bright green eyes. But she doesn’t say anything, and plastering on a forced smile instead. 

“I’m fine. Busy,” she replies stiffly. “How are you?”

“That’s good. I am busy, too,” he tells her with a curt nod. _Busy missing you, _he wants to say, but doesn’t. He wonders if they’d ever be able to at least have a normal conversation when he realizes there was something he wanted – or, should – say. [He’d been getting ready when he noticed her clothes still hung in his closet, still smelling of her, and he’d made a mental note to somehow let her know. _No time like the present,_he figures].

“You have clothes,” he blurts, and he can see she’s a little surprised by his words. He hadn’t meant to be so blunt, but he didn’t want to beat around the bush.

“Clothes?” she asks, clearly confused.

“Yes. You left some clothes at my apartment. I’m guessing you might need them,” he elaborates with a casual shrug, and she nods in understanding. “You should come pick them up. You still have the key, right?”

“Yeah,” she nods faintly.

“Leave the key on the kitchen counter,” he tells her, though he doesn’t want to. Really, he wants her to come back, but he knows that is not possible. 

“Yeah, okay,” she says, her gaze still locked with his. “Right, okay.”

“Great. Um, if I forgot anything at your apartment, you’ll let me know?” he checks, though he’s pretty sure he hadn’t. Still, if it meant seeing her again, he’d take it.

“Yes,” she agrees.

“I guess I’ll see you,” he says, stepping back slightly. [They’d been standing so close to each other, it hurts to pull away, and he does so reluctantly].

“Yes, see you,” she agrees, trying to plaster on a fake smile. “I, uh, I have a meeting-”

“I need to go meet with-”

They break off, nodding, and then Jill starts moving towards Kate’s office Roger moves in the direction of the elevators, refusing to look back. 

“Goodbye, Jill,” Roger says softly.

“Bye,” she tells him, her voice soft.

He doesn’t see Jill for a few days afterwards, pointedly avoiding his apartment in case she goes to pick up her close. [He wouldn’t be able to resist her, resist his instincts if they were at his apartment alone, so he decides to just stay away]. A few days later, he comes home, and it’s clear Jill had come by, clear by the key on the kitchen counter, clear from how empty the apartment feels.

When he does see her, it’s on an elevator, and he immediately regrets getting on it.

Roger Gunn wasn’t a big fan of elevators and other small spaces or crowds, and he usually avoids them at all costs though he tries to hide it. [He’s sure Jill knows, or suspected at least; they’d dated for a little while, but neither of them had ever brought the matter up, so Roger just ignores it].

He was going back to the office when he’d spotted her, probably going in to see Kate.

“Hi,” she says softly, the air thick with tension.

“Hi,” he returns, his eyes drifting up to the floor display as the elevator starts moving up with an agonizingly slow speed. He can feel his heartrate quicken and he curls his hands into fists, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself before focusing his attention on Jill. Her blonde hair is slightly wavy, and she’s wearing a powder blue chiffon blouse with a navy blazer over it. [The shirt _he_’d given her as a gift and Roger’s breath hitches]. “How are you?” she asks softly, if not a little awkwardly.

“Good. You?” he asks curtly.

“I’m good, too,” she smiles slightly in his direction. “I have a meet-” she’s cut off by the elevator dropping to an abrupt halt, the lights flickering slightly. Roger’s breath hitches as she stumbles into him, and he catches her before she manages to steady herself. “Okay, did this thing just stop?” she wonders as the lights stop flickering and Roger’s eyes drift to the floor display.

“Yes, but I’m sure it’ll start soon,” Roger tells her, trying to sound reassuring, though he can feel the numbing feeling of panic. He tries the doors, but they’re sealed shut, and his heart beats faster in his chest as his stomach plummets. _No! _his mind screams. _No, this cannot be happening! No! _“Well, great, we’re trapped,” he mutters, his breath hitching, as he starts pacing while Jill pulls out her phone.

“Damn it, I have no service,” she says with a groan. Roger drops his head in defeat. Thankfully, the lights stop flickering, but he doesn’t feel any more reassured. If anything, the panic seems to multiply as time ticks by. “Just fantastic,” Jill mutters, annoyed, and he looks over at her, seeing the distress on her face. [It’s probably mostly annoyance she’s missing her meeting, not overwhelming panic like he’s feeling]. Roger continues to pace.

He was having a panic attack; Roger was well aware of the fact. From the moment they’d gotten on the elevator, he’d braced himself for the clammy hands, the elevated heartrate, the roughly three hundred seconds it would take to get to the twentieth floor. But then, the elevator had stopped abruptly and he’d felt the overwhelming sense of dread as he’d realized they were stuck.

Blood pounded in his ears and his heart hammered in his chest as he started pacing. His hands shook, his feet tingled, and he could not breathe. That was the thing he hated the most, the feeling of not having enough air, of not being able to breathe. _In and out_, he reminded himself, trying to steady himself, but he couldn’t. He could not breathe and his chest felt like it was on fire. _In and out._

“Roger? Are you okay?” Her voice cuts through the haze, if only briefly, and he clings to it like it’s a lifeline. He doesn’t answer though, his throat too constricted. “Roger,” she tries again as he reaches, almost automatically, to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt. _In and out. __In and out. _His vision is disfigured, but he can still make out her shape – Jill – reaching out for him, but still hesitant.

He can’t breathe and he can feel his heart thudding in his chest as he curls his hands in fists, trying to stop them from shaking.

“Yeah… fine,” he grunts breathlessly, straining himself to breathe, but he can’t. He can’t breathe. “I- I’m fine…” he stutters out, gasping for air breathlessly, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Roger?” Jill tries again, her voice distorted, like he’s underwater. She inches closer to him, but he flinches almost automatically. His back hits the wall, reminding him of the small space he is in, and his heart stutters in his chest as he tries to breathe in as much air as he can, though it feels as if there isn’t enough air. His eyes drift around the small space, the four walls, the mirror on the wall behind him, the button panel, the floor display, the two doors that are sealed shut. _Trapped. _He’s trapped. He feels sweat run down his brow and he grips the railing behind him tightly as he tries to breathe. _In and out_, a voice reminds him, repeating it like a mantra. _In and out. _He can’t breathe.

“Roger, it’s okay,” she adds gently, reaching for him again, but he shakes his head vehemently.

“I just… I ju- I hate feeling trapped!” he snaps, his voice raising in pitch and he sees her wince.

“Roger,” she repeats, her voice soft and gentle as she steps closer to him, reaching to touch him. This time, he lets her, and she reaches to rest her hands on his shoulders, comforting and reassuring. He relaxes beneath her touch and meets her gaze, finding warmth in her green eyes.

* * *

It clicks to her then, all the times she’d seen him avoid crowds and small spaces when they were together. [Jill had thought it was just a quirk, just a weird Roger Gunn thing when he’d told her he preferred to sit on the aisle at cinemas. Or, how he’d always wait for an emptier subway. Or, the time their subway to the stadium had gotten stuck and a crowd of people were waiting and Roger had suggested they go wait somewhere else].

“You don’t like small spaces,” she says matter-of-factly, her hands still resting on his shoulders.

“Not… really…” he stutters out, still gasping for air, his head bowed, his brow sweaty.

“It’s okay,” she says gently, moving her hands to cup his cheeks, her thumbs brushing gently along his jawline.

Roger tries to breathe in again, but his breath ragged, forced like he doesn’t have enough air and she can feel him tremble with fear.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she says slowly, but Roger doesn’t seem to hear her, still trying to breathe, his breath coming out in short gasps. “Hey, Roger,” she says gently though her own pulse is quickening with worry. “Hey, breathe, you have to breathe,” she encourages, her palms still resting against his cheeks, her thumbs rubbing against his jaw. “Breathe,” she repeats and her heart aches upon seeing him struggling to catch breath. “You have to breathe,” she encourages, moving one hand to rub his back. “C’mon, in and out, Roger,” she urges, inhaling slowly before exhaling herself. Roger attempts to mimic her, but his breathing is still ragged, and he still can’t quite catch his breath. She can feel his pulse, thrumming frantically beneath his skin which seems to agitate him even more, and it hurts her to see him like this. “In and out,” she repeats, rubbing his back gently before repeating the motion and Roger does the same. This time, Roger’s breathing is a little steadier as he inhales and exhales, though he grimaces like he’s in pain. “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay,” she soothes gently, continuing to rub his back. They inhale and exhale several times, Roger’s breathing becoming slightly more steady each time as he moves his hands up, fitting his hands over hers, his hands still sweaty. “In and out,” she says softly, continuing to run her hand up and down his back. Another ragged inhale and exhale. “Just breathe,” she urges, not breaking his gaze. “It’s okay. You’re okay,” she continues, her voice gentle. “Just breathe. In and out,” she inhales and exhales, and Roger copies her, his blue eyes focused on hers. “In and out.”

Eventually, Roger finally calms down, and they sink to the floor gracelessly. She keeps her hand on his back, moving her other hand to rest on his arm as he drops his head between his knees, continuing to inhale and exhale softly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she says, breaking the silence that had settled between them, and Roger shakes his head, not looking up to meet her gaze. “Roger, it’s okay, I’m not going to judge you,” she adds, shifting closer to him, but he tenses up, so she shifts back, still keeping her hands on him.

“I’m fine,” Roger mutters under his breath, his head still bowed.

“Roger, look at me,” she says softly, moving one hand to cup his cheek, her thumb rubbing along her jaw. “_Look at me_,” she repeats, more firmly this time. Finally, he looks up and turns to meet her gaze, pain still clear in his blue eyes and Jill just sighs softly.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters sadly, but she shakes her head vehemently.

“Roger Gunn, you have nothing to be sorry about,” she says determinedly. “Nothing,” she repeats though Roger doesn’t look so sure. “These things happen,” she hesitates, not sure she wants to bring it up. “Cynthia used to have panic attacks,” she says eventually. “I had to learn pretty quickly how to calm her down,” she explains, her lips curling into a tentative smile.

“Thank you,” he replies, reaching to take her hand in his, lacing their fingers together as she shuffles closer to him. This time, he lets her, taking comfort in the feel of her body beside his. “Thank you, Jill,” he repeats, and she squeezes his hand gently.

Silence settles between them, though Jill’s mind is full of questions as Roger continues to inhale and exhale gently, Jill rubbing her hand against his back absentmindedly.

“I’m claustrophobic,” he admits, finally breaking the silence. “So, uh, small spaces and crowds are…” he hesitates, searching for the right word, “difficult. I haven’t had an attack like this in a while though, I’ve gotten good at managing it and hiding it,” he finishes, his gaze still holding hers steadily. Jill doesn’t blink, she just nods in understanding, her thumb rubbing across his knuckles.

“Oh. Why hide it?” she blurts before she can really sort through her thoughts. _Why hide it from me? _goes unsaid.

“I just- I just didn’t want to seem… weak, I guess. I’ve been hiding it my whole life and I sort of got used to it. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want your pity or anything like that and it was just easier to hide it,” he confesses, his blue eyes locked with her green ones. Jill nods in understanding. _Besides, I don’t deserve to know anything anymore, _she thinks.

“Does anyone know?” she asks curiously.

“Oh, well, uh, Renée knows. And, Delap found out by accident once. He liked to mock me with the size of my office, but he’s gone now” he tells her, and she scrunches her face at the mention of the former U.S. Attorney for the Southern District. Roger just shrugs. Roger seems to sense her distress and he squeezes her hand gently, “Jill, it’s nothing to do with you that I didn’t tell you. It’s me, okay? Please don’t- don’t feel like I don’t trust you. Because I do. I trust you more than anyone,” he tells her, lifting his hand to cup her cheek, his thumb rubbing against hers. She nods, moving her head to kiss his wrist before meeting his gaze yet again. “It- I like to pretend it doesn’t… it doesn’t exist,” he adds softly and she nods in understanding.

“I’m sorry,” she answers him. “I’m sorry you’ve been going thorough this,” she tells him sadly. “And, it doesn’t matter anymore. You don’t owe me an explanation. It’s okay,” she adds, her gaze forlorn.

“Jill…” he shakes his head. “I’m fine. Thank you,” he adds softly.

“Of course,” she nods, her face mere inches from his. Her heart hammers against her chest and she wants to kiss him, desperate to feel his lips on hers, his fingers in her hair, his body presses against hers. But, she doesn’t move, her breath hitching.

Roger is the one who closes the space between them, pressing his lips to hers, bringing his other hand up to cup her cheek. Without thinking, Jill responds immediately, her lips molding with his, her hands moving to fit over his as she shifts her body closer to his. Their tongues tangle together, and Jill moans as Roger bites her lower lip slightly. When air becomes a necessity, they pull away, both of them breathless and panting, their noses brushing against each other, their breaths mingling.

“Roger…” she whispers against his lips, reluctantly putting more distance between them and not wanting to at the same time. “We can’t…” she adds, her voice husky and low. “We can’t.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds before Roger finally breaks the silence. “I miss you,” he mumbles lowly against her lips, but she tries to pull away. “I miss you,” he repeats, desperately so. And then, he presses his lips to hers and this time she doesn’t fight him. She just kisses him back, her hands gripping him close.

A few seconds later, they pull away, both of them breathing heavily, and they collapse into each other’s arms. Roger tucks his chin over her shoulder, and she kisses his neck softly as they pant heavily.

Finally, with an abrupt jolt, the elevator starts ascending again before the doors finally open once the display reads 20. There are FBI agents assembled in front of the elevator, probably waiting for Roger. After a brief glance in his direction, Jill moves in the direction of Kate’s office, her heart racing.

* * *

She meets David at the hospital, when one of her clients who had been out on bail gets hurt. She’s impressed and a little bit touched by the charming doctor with his dark and handsome demeanor and kind smile.

They flirt for a while, and exchange numbers, and run into each other several other times before David finally asks her out. They go out for drinks, then he invites her to go out to dinner with him at a cozy Italian restaurant in Little Italy.

David is funny and kind; he gets her passion for defending anyone no matter what, and most of all he’s not Roger. [Which is both a good and a bad thing]. Still, she enjoys his company and he likes the Yankees enough that he’ll watch games with her and he makes her feel special in a way that’s completely new. After their third date, she removes the photo booth photos from the fridge and tucks them in her nightstand drawer before inviting David for dinner at her place.

“This was delicious,” David says softly, setting his empty wine glass on the counter as he helps her clean up. “Thanks for inviting me,” he smiles.

“Thank you,” she smiles teasingly at him. “This was very nice,” she says, leaning against the counter as David walks towards her, resting his hands on either side of her waist. “Thanks for the company.”

“I hope you won’t mind if I keep you company a little longer?” David quips, his voice husky and low.

“Company sounds nice,” she agrees. Their lips are barely inches from each other, noses brushing, their foreheads pressed against each other.

“Yes, it does,” David mumbles hoarsely against her lips. And then, he leans in and presses his lips against hers and Jill returns the kiss eagerly, wrapping her hands around his neck as he rests his hands on her hips.

When they pull away from each other, Jill takes David’s hand and leads him to her bedroom. Briefly, she glances at him, her lips curled into a flirtatious smirk as she beckons for him and David follows her eagerly, his hand firm in hers.

* * *

Between David and work, Jill doesn’t see Roger for a while. At work, she’d gone back to avoiding the U.S. Attorney’s Office like she used to, meeting Kate Littlejohn in her office instead or sending another FPD in her place. The new crop of incoming FPDs and AUSAs arrives, and Jill is even more busy mentoring the new public defenders though she often asks Sandra, Allison and Jay to help. And, outside of work, she spends most of her time with David.

The Yankees are playing the Red Sox and it’s their one-month anniversary, so David takes her to see the game. She’d gotten off early despite her giant caseload, and gone home to change into jeans and a pinstriped shirt before meeting David at a small restaurant to eat quickly before going to the game, her hand gripping his firmly.

She wouldn’t miss him anywhere, especially at a baseball game. His tall figure stood out in the crowd and Jill’s heart skips a beat as David leads her in the direction of their seats which requires them to pass by Roger, and surprisingly, Maggie.

“Hey!” Maggie calls out gently and Jill turns to her immediately.

“Hi, Maggie,” Jill greets her pleasantly, and this gets Roger’s attention, who turns to them. “Roger!” she exclaims breathlessly, by way of greeting.

“Hey,” he smiles at her, his face lighting up immediately, though he tries to hide it. Beside her, David stiffens and wraps his arm casually, yet possessively around her waist. Jill stiffens.

“Hi,” she says again, her tone more measured. There’s a pregnant pause, and if Jill were paying attention to David, she’d have noticed he was glaring daggers at Roger, whose expression was guarded, unreadable. Instead, she breaks the silence with “how are you?” [The question is directed at Roger even as she squeezes David’s hand gently].

“Good. Maggie’s visiting me, so we decided to see the game,” Roger answers her, a forced smile on his face.

“Lizzie’s staying over at a friend’s back home,” Maggie pipes up. [If Maggie knows what is going on, and Jill has no doubt she does, she ignores it].

“Oh. Um, this is David. David, this is Roger Gunn, we used to work together, and his daughter, Maggie,” she introduces, gesturing slightly between them. [Roger’s eyes flicker with understanding, and Jill’s heart skips a beat when she realizes he thinks she’d moved on. She hadn’t]. The two men shake hands and smile politely.

“Nice meeting you,” David says smoothly in that voice he uses when talking to his colleagues. [It’s pleasant, though there’s a hint of superiority, of that holier than thou attitude that annoys her].

“Likewise,” Roger says neutrally, though he’s looking at her, a ghost of affection evident in his icy blue eyes. Maggie smiles politely at David.

“Well, our seats are a bit further away,” Jill breaks the heavy tension that had settled between them. “We should get going. It was nice seeing you,” she adds, smiling a little.

“Nice seeing you, too, Jill,” Maggie beams at her.

“Good to see you, Jill. It was nice meeting you, David. Enjoy,” Roger says smoothly.

David echoes Roger’s sentiments halfheartedly and tugs Jill after him.

It’s only once they’re settled in their seats that David turns to her.

“Isn’t that the Acting U.S. Attorney for the Southern District?” he asks baldly.

“Yeah,” she mutters. “We used to work together before he was appointed,” she explains.

“I see. Huh. You know his daughter?”

“Yes. We weren’t enemies. Just adversaries. The Red Sox are the enemy,” she answers vaguely, avoiding the subject with a somewhat coy smile. David looks at her curiously, but she’s saved from saying anything else by the game starting. There’s a part of her that hopes David won’t bring the subject up again, but deep down she knows he will.

David brings up the subject the next morning as they’re getting ready for work. He’d been rummaging around her bedroom, looking for something, when he’d found the photo booth pictures, and he stops, frozen still.

“You were in a relationship with him? Roger Gunn?” he looks at her seriously, his eyebrows raised, and there’s a hint of accusation in his tone.

Jill lets crosses her arms, annoyed that he’d rummaged through her drawer and that he’d found the photos. “What were you doing in my drawer?” she asks, slightly irritated, avoiding the subject, but David can see straight through.

“Don’t change the subject. I was looking for my prescription pad, thought you might have it. Were you in a relationship with Roger Gunn?”

Jill lets out a heavy sigh, resigned. “Yes,” she answers after a moment of hesitation. “It didn’t work out.”

“Why? How long?” David prods in that way he usually does when trying to take a patient’s history.

“Because of our jobs. Pretending our jobs weren’t part of our relationship didn’t work after a while,” she answers him half-truthfully, plopping down on the bed. David sinks down next to her, the photograph still in his hand. “When Roger got the offer for Acting U.S. Attorney, I said enough is enough,” she explains as vaguely as she can. [There was more to it, but Jill didn’t want to share it. This was between her and Roger anyways]. “It’s over, David,” she adds more softly, reaching to take his hand in hers, rubbing her thumb across his knuckles. David nods and tilts his head, leaning to press a chaste kiss to her cheek. He hands her the photo and gets up wordlessly, not saying anything else about the matter. Jill tucks the photo in her work bag and follows after him. [Later, she puts it in her desk drawer at work].

She doesn’t talk to David for the rest of the day. She’s busy with work, she has a huge trial, so she doesn’t call him, but David doesn’t text her either, so Jill just focuses on work.

* * *

Jill takes a deep breath as she waits for Judge Byrne to arrive in court so the verdict can be read. Beside her is her client and Jill’s heart hammers in her chest as she runs over the entire trial in her head, looking for any mistakes, any tell as to what the verdict would be.

“Do you think it’ll be okay?” Lily, her client asks softly, shaking beside her. Jill turns to her, tucking a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear.

“Yes. No matter what happens, I think it will be okay. I’ll make sure of it,” she tells the young woman, her voice full of conviction, certain.

“Thank you,” Lily says softly.

“All rise!” the bailiff calls out. “The Honorable Judge Nicholas Byrne!”

Byrne steps in, and Jill’s breath hitches in her throat as he takes his seat.

“Has the jury reached a unanimous verdict?” he asks in his smooth, bass-like voice.

“Yes, Your Honor,” the foreman announces.

“Will the defendant please rise?” Jill stands alongside Lily.

“Do you find the defendant, Lilian Jones guilty or not guilty?”

“Guilty, Your Honor!”

Jill feels like the wind had been knocked out of her, like she can’t breathe and she grips the table in front of her tightly as the officers come around to take Lily away. Jill glances over at her client, and the pure devastation in the young woman’s mirrors her own, though she doesn’t show it. Instead, all she can do is watch as the officers grab Lily, and she turns to see Allison’s expression shatter. [Allison had worked hard on the case, and part of Jill was immensely proud of the younger woman while part of her wished it had been someone else so maybe Lily’s story wouldn’t affect them so deeply].

“I’ll work on an appeal, we’ll get her out of there,” Allison tells her as soon as they’re out of the surprisingly stifling Mother Court. “I should go see her,” she adds with a slight frown.

“Yeah,” Jill mutters numbly before making her way down the steps and across Foley Square.

The rest of the day passes by in a blur and Jill finds herself walking into the bar by Chambers Street Station. [David was on call, and Jill didn’t feel like going home to wallow in her self-pity]. Except, she wants to turn around and go home as soon as she enters because she finds Roger Gunn at the bar, glass of whiskey in his hand. Still, she forces herself to walk over to the bar, ordering a drink for herself which she downs in seconds.

“Rough day?” he asks, turning to face her and Jill’s taken aback by how terrible he looks, bags under his eyes and a certain exhaustion and sadness clear in his blue eyes.

“Something like that,” she says softly, her eyes drifting back to his eyes. [Once, she used to be able to read him so well just by looking at him, but not anymore. It seems that Roger had put his walls back up, refusing to let anyone in, including her].

“What?” he asks, having noticed how she was more or less staring at him.

“You look like hell,” she quips before motioning the bartender for another drink. It’s quiet between them for another few seconds as Jill continues to glance over at Roger while he can’t pull his gaze away.

“I miss you!” he blurts and Jill sits up, surprised, setting down her glass. [And, part of her isn’t at all surprised at his admission because she misses him too].

“Roger… I’m- I’m seeing someone,” she says softly, reminding him of running into each other at the game.

Roger bows his head, partly ashamed, “I know…” he mutters quietly as Jill takes another sip of her drink. “I know,” he repeats. “So, what happened today? I’ll buy you a drink and you can tell me about it,” he suggests, half-chuckling and she nods before ordering another whiskey. And the words spill out of her both before she can even think.

They stay for a while, to the point where Jill is quite tipsy when they leave the bar, and Roger keeps his arm on her waist, supporting her waist. He hails her a cab and Jill smiles gratefully at him, her cheeks flushed before pressing her lips to his cheek as he practically pushes her into the cab, his hand lingering on her waist a moment longer.

* * *

Her relationship with David starts falling apart not long after. Jill’s not sure if it’s her throwing herself into work, or the way she can’t quite get Roger Gunn out of her mind, or the simple fact that David is possibly jealous and becoming possessive. They argue most of the time they’re together and Jill spends several nights at her own apartment when she was supposed to be with David. [This jealousy and possessiveness remind her of Cliff and she shudders at the mere thought, pushing it away].

They last just until Thanksgiving. David is working Thanksgiving, and then they’re supposed to go see his sister for Thanksgiving dinner, but things take a turn for the worse at Tina’s dinner party. Tina comes up with the idea of organizing Friendsgiving – she was probably spending too much time with Jay – to celebrate the upcoming holiday a few days earlier. So, this is how Jill finds herself baking a pumpkin pie using a recipe she’d learned from her mom ages ago and putting on a nice dress, her hair hanging down her shoulders in soft waves. Upon arriving at Tina’s, Jill instantly regrets it because she spots the former Chief of the Criminal Division of the U.S. Attorney’s Office for the SDNY chatting to one of the AUSAs and she wants to turn around and leave. Unfortunately, she can’t, so she threads her fingers through David’s leading him along and giving Tina the pumpkin pie before joining the others. Sandra hands her a glass of wine that Jill takes gratefully, smiling at her protégé.

As Jill is about to take a seat, Roger turns, having finished his conversation, and freezes upon seeing her. His blue eyes roam over her body quickly, lingering a little longer on her cleavage before drifting up to her face, meeting her green ones. Her lips curl into a smile as she gazes into his eyes, and for a second, it’s as if time had stopped. But, David’s possessive hand on her waist pulls her out of her trance and she blinks rapidly.

“Hi,” she breathes out, forcing a smile.

“Hey,” Roger greets back, though he doesn’t smile, his face unreadable. He looks like he’s about to say something else, but he doesn’t, and Jill lets David turn her away.

Dinner starts out pleasantly enough, if not a little awkward, and Jill lets loose a little, though she can feel Roger’s eyes on her the entire time, even though David is the one holding her hand.

“Jill, may I have a moment?” David whispers in her ear, and she nods, the two of them getting up to go outside.

“Is everything okay?” she asks gently, biting her lip worriedly.

“Yeah, everything’s fine…” David pauses, and Jill can sense he’s not being entirely truthful. “I just… I really like you, Jill, but I gotta ask you something because it’s been eating at me,” he says gently and Jill nods.

“Okay,” she says softly. There’s a pregnant pause and Jill’s heart is beating rapidly in her chest.

“Are you still in love with Roger Gunn?” he finally asks and Jill stills.

“Wh- what?” she gasps, stunned. “David, where is this coming from?”

“It’s a simple question, Jill,” he says softly.

“It’s not. It’s complicated. I told you-” she starts to say, to explain, though she knows she doesn’t have a good enough explanation, and nothing she says will help.

“I know what you told me. But, I can’t help but wonder. And, the way the two of you have been looking at each other…” he hesitates, and Jill bites her lip. “It feels unfair of me to be with you when he looks at you like that,” David says finally and Jill is taken aback.

“It doesn’t matter-” she starts to say, though she knows she’s lying even as she says it.

“Doesn’t it?” David quips gently. “I’m- I’m not mad at you, Jill. I used to be until… just tonight I saw the way he looked at you and realized how much you clearly mean to him-”

“His job means more,” she argues, almost desperately, her voice thick with emotion, and David steps closer to her, reaching to pull her closer.

“I know. I’m sorry. But, perhaps he’ll realize it. Or, he won’t. Either way, what we have isn’t… it’s not good,” David reaches to cup her cheek gently and she leans into the touch, a stray tear falling down her cheek. “We both deserve better,” he says more gently. “Thank you for the past couple of months. You are an incredible woman, Jill Carlan,” he tells her and she smiles, blushing.

“Thank you, David,” she manages to get out. He presses a soft kiss to her forehead, and then he pulls away.

“Goodbye, Jill,” he says before turning around and leaving.

“Bye…” she breathes out before wrapping her arms around herself in an attempt to hold herself together.

Jill’s not sure how long she stands like that until she hears the door behind her open and shut.

“You okay?” Roger asks softly, having come outside to, no doubt, check up on her. [She’d felt him, felt his presence, and she relished in the comfort it brought her].

“I’m fine,” she says softly, bravely, refusing to move. Roger, seemingly sensing this, doesn’t say anything, and instead, stands beside her as the first snowflakes begin to descend slowly from the sky. “I miss you, too,” she finally breathes out and turns to glance at him. Roger looks stunned by her admission, his mouth slightly agape. But, then he moves closer to her and reaches to cup her cheeks, tucking one long strand of hair behind her ear. And then, his lips are on hers, firm and solid and Jill returns the kiss, her lips molding with his, her hands wrapping around his neck as his slide down her back until they rest on her waist, pulling her closer. She kisses him deeply, losing herself in the moment, letting the flurry of snowflakes fall down around them like confetti. Their tongues tangle together for a few seconds, bodies pressed against each other, lips molded together. And, then, rational thought seems to return to Roger, and he pulls away, albeit reluctantly, his hands still gripping her, his forehead resting on hers.

Jill lets out a shaky breath, her hands resting on his shoulders.

“This isn’t- we can’t-” he mutters in protest before pulling away. “It would be wrong of me…” he whispers softly, stepping away from her.

“Roger…” she mumbles against his lips.

“Jill…”

And then, he takes a step back, and another, and another until he’s several feet away from her, and goes back inside.

Later, much later, Roger drops her off at home though he doesn’t look at her the entire time, and Jill blushes, embarrassed.

* * *

It’s a month or so later, and she’s packing her bag, getting ready to go home, when she hears a few soft knocks. She looks up to find Roger Gunn standing in her doorway and she drops the files she’d been holding

“Roger,” she says carefully, bracing herself, remembering Friendsgiving and all the heartache afterwards. [After Friendsgiving, she had sought him out, but it was Roger who had started avoiding her. She hadn’t seen him since then]. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you,” he says softly, his eyes flooded with warmth, “to tell you that…” he hesitates and Jill can feel her heartbeat quicken, “… I love you,” he finally blurts and Jill can’t help the shocked gasp that escapes her.

“What?” she breathes out. “Roger…”

“I love you, Jill. I’ve- I think I’ve been in love with you since the Kirk Keener case and I- I just realized it. I’m sorry I-”

“Roger,” she interrupts him mid-sentence, “what is going on?”

“I quit,” he blurts, and Jill can’t help but gasp, shocked.

“Wh- what?”

“I quit, Jill. I was wrong when I picked the job over you. The job doesn’t mean anything without you-”

“Roger…” she interrupts him, but he ignores her.

“I quit,” he says softly, stepping closer to her.

“You didn’t,” she says breathlessly.

“I did. Because I love you, Jill. I love you. I know what you’re thinking, ‘I didn’t want you to quit your job. I don’t want that responsibility.’ I know you’re thinking this. But, it’s not your responsibility. It’s mine. And, I don’t care if this all falls apart tomorrow,” he says with half-chuckle. “I really don’t. We are here now,” he smiles and takes her hand before continuing, “and I want five minutes with you more than I want the chair,” he finishes and Jill’s eyebrows draw together in confusion.

“I… what chair?” she asks. But, Roger ignores her question and lowers himself on one knee causing Jill to inhale sharply. “Roger…” she mutters as he pulls out a small velvet box.

“For a long time, I didn’t think I would ever be able to find love again, as cheesy as it sounds. And then, I found it with you. And, I gave it up,” he says regretfully and Jill shakes her head ‘no’. “I’m sorry. Y- you were right in front of my face and it took me so long to realize that I’ve been in love with the woman across the street all this time… And, now, I hope I’m not too late” he says apologetically, still looking up at her, his eyes filled with emotion. “Jill Carlan, I love you. I want to make you happy for the rest of our lives and I want to share the rest of my life with you. I’m sorry I gave up on you. But, I’m not letting you go again if you’ll let me.” As he continues, her heart hammers in her chest and she watches, almost bracing herself as he opens the small velvet box before gasping. “Will you marry me, Jill?” he asks finally and Jill feels like her breath had been knocked out of her as her gaze lands on the small ring in the box, her heart beating frantically in her chest, tears prickling at her eyes. And then, she manages to pull her gaze away from the ring to meet Roger’s gaze, his blue eyes full of vulnerability and emotion and she knows her answer immediately.

“Yes…” she breathes out softly. “Yes,” she repeats and Roger slowly slips the ring onto her finger. It fits perfectly and she smiles as he stands up before she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him. Really, really kisses him. He returns the kiss, just as eager and passionate, his hands moving to rest on her hips as she deepens the kiss, her lips molding with his. The kiss is lingering, their tongues tangling together for a few more seconds before, reluctantly, they pull away, their noses brushing. Roger smiles fondly at her, and she smiles back. “I love you, too,” Jill whispers softly against his lips, moving her hand to cup his cheek, her fingers gently caressing his jawline.

Roger just smiles at her warmly before he kisses her again.

* * *

The wedding is a small ceremony on the rooftop of the FPD office, officiated by Judge Byrne. They’d invited Roger’s daughters Maggie and Lizzie, of course; Sandra, Allison, Ted and Jay from her side; Kate, Leonard, Seth and Celia from his, though Jill doesn’t think it was Roger’s idea to invite them, Tina and Yoli, her best friend from law school. She’d refused to wear white, instead opting for a cobalt blue number she’d fallen in love with when the girls and Yoli had dragged her dress-shopping. It fits her like a sleeve, made of soft, silky material that clings perfectly to her waist, the skirt flowing down to her knees and an asymmetric hemline, the neckline a modest V-shape. Roger’s gaze lingers unashamedly over her body and Jill can feel herself heat up underneath his gaze as she faces him before looking up. He takes her hands gently, lacing their fingers together as he gazes into her eyes.

“Shall we?” he whispers softly, smirking.

“We shall,” she agrees with a small smile.

“Hello, everyone. We are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the marriage of Roger Gunn and Jill Carlan,” Byrne says in his gentle baritone voice. Jill zones out of what Byrne is saying, her green eyes locked with Roger’s. [They’d asked him to be quick, and soon enough he asks them to recite their vows. Jill cries during Roger’s part]. Then, it’s her turn. She recites the vows through teary eyes and she can see Roger’s eyes are filled with tears too.

“Jill Carlan, who knew you could be such a romantic?” he teases, smirking, once she finishes.

“Shut up,” she retorts. Maggie approaches them, opening her palm to reveal the two thin wedding bands they’d chosen.

“Alright, do you Roger Gunn take Jill Carlan to be your lawfully wedded wife?” Byrne asks as Roger takes the smaller band.

“I do,” Roger says, his blue eyes twinkling as he fits the wedding band on her ring finger.

“Do you Jill Carlan take Roger Gunn to be your lawfully wedded husband?” She takes the wedding band from Maggie and takes Roger’s hand in her own.

“I do,” she says softly, fitting the wedding band on his left ring finger.

“Then by the power vested in me by the State of New York, I pronounce you married. You may kiss the bride,” Byrne announces as they continue grinning stupidly at each other.

“We’re married,” Roger breathes lowly as he pulls her closer to him. She lets out a soft laugh. “Can you kiss me please, Jill?” he asks her, still smiling at her. She doesn’t care about anything as she tilts her head up and presses her lips to his, her hands winding around his neck, everyone’s cheers and applauses ringing in her ear, Roger’s hands firm on her waist.


End file.
